<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Where You and I Collide by DrowningByDegrees</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744712">Where You and I Collide</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningByDegrees/pseuds/DrowningByDegrees'>DrowningByDegrees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Communication is hard okay?, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Forehead Touching, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mostly Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:28:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,388</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningByDegrees/pseuds/DrowningByDegrees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The words don’t pass his lips. At first Jaskier thinks this is too new, too fragile a thing that’s come into being between them. Then, he fears that perhaps they don’t mean the same thing by any of this, that perhaps he’s offered up his heart to someone who has no use for it.</p>
<p>Based on a prompt asking for something about Jaskier and Geralt struggling with feelings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>381</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Where You and I Collide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The words don’t pass his lips. At first Jaskier thinks this is too new, too fragile a thing that’s come into being between them. Then, he fears that perhaps they don’t mean the same thing by any of this, that perhaps he’s offered up his heart to someone who has no use for it. </p>
<p>It would just be his luck that Geralt picks now of all times to be observant. Jaskier does his best to smother his own fears with smiles and teasing and well placed kisses, but the success of his methods is fleeting at best. Geralt keeps watching like there’s something he’s trying to puzzle out. </p>
<p>Jaskier thinks they might keep this up forever because it’s not a conversation he knows how to begin and he’s not sure Geralt has ever voluntarily started a conversation in his life. He can’t expect it of Geralt anyway. Not when the problem is his. Jaskier’s so certain that he’s going to be stuck in this self imposed purgatory forever, that he’s utterly shocked when Geralt makes a move to pull him from it. </p>
<p>“You’re upset.” It’s not a question. </p>
<p>Jaskier has never subscribed to the notion that witchers don’t have emotions, but it’s easy sometimes to assume Geralt’s difficulty articulating his own extends to a difficulty parsing them in others.It appears that Jaskier has either been very obvious or very mistaken. Maybe a bit of both. Surely, he thinks, he can be forgiven for the fact that he fumbles through half formed syllables, sifting frantically through for a response to smooth things over. </p>
<p>Jaskier’s breath catches in shock when Geralt not only doesn’t press him for an explanation, but draws him into a haphazard embrace. This isn’t a thing Geralt does. Geralt yanking him out of trouble happens often enough. He touches Jaskier to get his attention in a crowded room… or in a room all to themselves. The point is that it’s always just a stop on the way somewhere else, never contact for its own sake without some other intent. But when Jaskier manages to unfreeze enough to hesitantly curl into his side, Geralt doesn’t get the sour, uncomfortable look he sometimes does in the face of unnecessary affection. And when Jaskier ventures as far as cautiously dropping his head to Geralt’s chest, the witcher only curls an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders. It’s unspeakably nice, even if it makes Jaskier’s nerves stand on end, unsure what to make of it. </p>
<p>Geralt still doesn’t ask what the problem is, which is entirely normal, all told. He’s trying to help in his own stilted way and that’s not entirely out of the ordinary either, because Geralt is kind, even when he’s not quite sure how to be. What is entirely out of the ordinary is the careful slide of Geralt’s fingers through his hair. It’s a gentle, almost furtive thing, like Geralt isn’t quite sure whether he’s crossed some invisible boundary, and before Jaskier really stops to think about it, he leans into it. </p>
<p>For a little while, they stay like that, a felled tree at their back, a fire dancing carelessly away in front of them, and Geralt holding onto him like he means something. Like they mean something. </p>
<p>“What are we doing?” Jaskier blurts out, already hating the way Geralt’s fingers go still against his temple. </p>
<p>“You’re upset,” Geralt says again, something strange and soft about it all. There’s a faint uptick in his tone like he’s belatedly wondering if he’s gotten this wrong and Jaskier wants to be annoyed, but the feeling just won’t come. </p>
<p>Jaskier swallows thickly, his attention focused on all the places Geralt is still touching him, motionless but present all the same. He’s not at all ready for this conversation, and he’s not sure his heart can take the calamity that threatens, but he replies all the same. “Not this. Us.”</p>
<p>Very, very slowly, Geralt retreats. His hand leaves the place it’s been resting, and then his arm lifts from Jaskier’s shoulders entirely. It’s only when he pulls back and sees Geralt’s face that Jaskier realizes what he meant and what Geralt heard are not the same thing. His normally impassive expression has pulled into something so clearly stricken that Jaskier is sort of sorry for saying anything at all. “I thought it was… that you wanted this.” </p>
<p>Jaskier reaches out, gets as far as grasping Geralt’s hands in his own before the witcher jerks away like their touch is scalding. It’s one of those precipice moments, he’s certain, and if he doesn’t stop this spiraling out of control now, they’ll be lost entirely. It’s that urgency that makes him try again, holding on until Geralt relents. “I do. That isn’t… That’s not what this is about.” </p>
<p>The space between Geralt’s brows scrunches in confusion, but he’s no longer pulling away, so that’s something. Optimistically, stupidly maybe, Jaskier gives into the impulse to lean in and close the space between them. As if a kiss could sweep all this out of the way. Geralt doesn’t pull away, but he shakes a hand free to curl around Jaskier’s jaw and he shifts so that their foreheads touch instead of their lips. “Then what is it about?” </p>
<p>Jaskier sucks in a breath, and now that he’s been offered space to speak his mind, words fail him entirely. He opens his mouth and closes it again, and he keeps expecting Geralt to get tired of waiting on him to wrangle his thoughts together, but the witcher doesn’t abandon him. The only move Geralt seems to take is his thumb patiently sweeping along Jaskier’s cheekbone. </p>
<p>“I don’t know what you want,” Jaskier finally breathes out, and it’s not enough. It’s not what he means. His hands move aimlessly, expansively, but Geralt can’t see them anyway like this and eventually they settle. One clutches anxiously at the fabric covering his thigh. The other rests, feather light, over Geralt’s hand on his cheek. “You never say.” </p>
<p>“Hmm.” It’s not a dismissal, Jaskier realizes almost immediately. Geralt hasn’t withdrawn, so it seems he means to answer, but the silence that stretches out in the meantime is agonizing. Jaskier hates the idea of forcing an explanation Geralt doesn’t want to give, so he interrupts before the witcher can say anything further. </p>
<p>“I’m not asking you to love me. I-- I’m a transient part of your life and I know that.” Jaskier blinks against the feeling of too much building at the corners of his eyes. He’s low enough already and that’s just embarrassing. So Jaskier breathes until it come out without the ragged edges. Not trusting his voice, he whispers, “I just, I guess, wanted to know some part of you was mine.” </p>
<p>“You idiot.” Only Geralt can make an insult sound like a term of endearment. Judging by the way his fingers hook under Jaskier’s chin to make the bard look at him, it probably is. Geralt catches Jaskier’s lips before he can even think about pulling away. It’s a careful, tender thing, and there’s that too much feeling again as Geralt’s mouth brushes against his. </p>
<p>The minutes pass by and it feels like a dream. Jaskier must be dreaming. Geralt pulls him close with hands as sure as the sunrise settling at Jaskier’s back. They trade soft, directionless kisses that make Jaskier want to curl up Geralt’s arms forever, reality be damned. When Geralt releases Jaskier’s lips, it’s only to nuzzle against the side of his neck. It’s without purpose, affection simply for affection’s sake, and Jaskier’s breath hitches under the gravity of it. </p>
<p>The confession is a quiet one, murmured warmly against Jaskier’s throat between slow, even breaths. “Every part of me is yours.”</p>
<p>It’s not the words Jaskier yearns for, but it’s near enough to soothe the frantic, grieving thing in him. Geralt chases away what shadows remain with a trail of kisses leading back to Jaskier’s mouth, and arms that fold around the bard’s back, a shield from the rest of the world. </p>
<p>The words don’t pass his lips. He doesn’t speak them, but his hand finds Jaskier’s under the table at taverns sometimes. He curls up around Jaskier without any intent. He falls asleep some nights carding his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. </p>
<p>The words don’t pass his lips, but Jaskier hears them anyway.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come say hi! You can find me <a href="https://drowningbydegrees.tumblr.com/">on Tumblr</a> or <a href="https://drowningbydegrees-fanworks.tumblr.com/"> this one</a> if you're only  interested in fanworks.<br/>Sometimes, I also exist on <a href="https://twitter.com/DrownByDegrees">Twitter.</a><br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>